on language
My son has told me he knows six languages. They are English, Spanish, Italian, African, Salsa, and Yellow. English he knows because we speak that at home. Spanish he learns at school (he attends a Spanish immersion school where everything is taught in Spanish; math, sciences, literature, etc.) and he will trill his r's to prove it. Italian I have taught him a little of what I know. He learned an "African" word or two off of a movie he saw.
Salsa he first told me about a few years ago when I was trying to teach him Italian. I remember that I told him what the Italian equivalent for an English word, and then he asked me how I knew what it was in Italian. I told him that because I lived in Italy and practiced speaking the language with the help of some other people and terrific teachers, I knew how to say quite a few things in Italian. He began telling me what the Salsan equivalent to English words. He learned more by modeling me than but what I was actually trying to teach him. Instead of parroting the Italian words for me, he mastered the art of "I know something you don't know."
Salsa is spoken by the people of Salsi, an ancient civilization. It is now a dead language, like Latin. It is unclear how my boy has come to speak it despite the scarcity of present-day speakers, yet he can give you Salsan equivalents to just about any English phrase. He also knows Yellow, which was spoken by the people of Yellow, where everyone quite likes the color yellow and things which hold that particular hue. Yellow is also a dead language of an ancient civilization and I have never heard a word of it. I look forward to learning more about it and its particular peculiarities any in form.
I also remember that in high school my friends and I had a special language called The Language of Ong. I don't know who created it but I used it and recall it every so often to add interest at social gatherings. "Fong yu cong king yong oh yu!" was an Ongian expletive, "Dong yong long ay nong" was my name, and "Bong ee Cong ay rong ee fong yu long" meant Be Careful.
In honor of html, Ong, Yellow, and all the other languages of the world I have pledged to add one more language to the many. Here is my first poem about love in my new, as yet unnamed, language:
mamy wow saucedo indejain cod botocks.
inderigh tan deskirz.
Salsa he first told me about a few years ago when I was trying to teach him Italian. I remember that I told him what the Italian equivalent for an English word, and then he asked me how I knew what it was in Italian. I told him that because I lived in Italy and practiced speaking the language with the help of some other people and terrific teachers, I knew how to say quite a few things in Italian. He began telling me what the Salsan equivalent to English words. He learned more by modeling me than but what I was actually trying to teach him. Instead of parroting the Italian words for me, he mastered the art of "I know something you don't know."
Salsa is spoken by the people of Salsi, an ancient civilization. It is now a dead language, like Latin. It is unclear how my boy has come to speak it despite the scarcity of present-day speakers, yet he can give you Salsan equivalents to just about any English phrase. He also knows Yellow, which was spoken by the people of Yellow, where everyone quite likes the color yellow and things which hold that particular hue. Yellow is also a dead language of an ancient civilization and I have never heard a word of it. I look forward to learning more about it and its particular peculiarities any in form.
I also remember that in high school my friends and I had a special language called The Language of Ong. I don't know who created it but I used it and recall it every so often to add interest at social gatherings. "Fong yu cong king yong oh yu!" was an Ongian expletive, "Dong yong long ay nong" was my name, and "Bong ee Cong ay rong ee fong yu long" meant Be Careful.
In honor of html, Ong, Yellow, and all the other languages of the world I have pledged to add one more language to the many. Here is my first poem about love in my new, as yet unnamed, language:
mamy wow saucedo indejain cod botocks.
inderigh tan deskirz.
posted by Dylan Tellesen at 3:12 PM
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